


I'll Even Give Her Mine

by tohidefrommyfriends



Series: I'll Even Give Her Mine [1]
Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tohidefrommyfriends/pseuds/tohidefrommyfriends
Summary: So... Arnold had cheated on his girlfriend. My man Arnold. Cheated. On his girlfriend. But it was the way that he said it that really interested me: he just said it. It was a statement to him, not a confession, or a heart-wrenching admission of guilt. He said it the same way he'd tell me he was out of sugar.





	I'll Even Give Her Mine

It was just a normal morning. It was my day off, (neither my wife or I work weekends), so I woke up at 8, stayed in bed with my wife until 8:30, made her breakfast, (as terrible as I am at cooking, it was my turn), and sat down for a nice meal and an invigorating cup of Joe. But then I heard this rapid knocking at my door, and when I glanced at the clock, I cocked an eyebrow. _Who the hell comes to somebody's house at 9 am?_, I remember thinking. What's so important that you have to get out of bed, and travel to someone's house before McDonald's stops serving breakfast sandwiches? I exchanged a confused glance with my wife, before I just shrugged and went to see who it was.

I peeked through the peephole to prepare myself, but I was met with the sight of my best friend. He apparently had a rough night, judging by appearance: his hair was flopping forward, (as opposed to sticking straight up like it usually did, much to his hilarious chagrin), his eyes were sporting heavy bags, and he was wringing his hands nervously. I immediately unlocked the door, and as soon as we made eye contact, he blurted out, "I cheated on Lila."

It took me a second to really understand what he had just said. So. Arnold had cheated on his girlfriend. My man Arnold. Cheated. On his girlfriend. But it was the way that he said it that really interested me: he just _said_ it. It was a _statement_ to him, not a confession, or a heart-wrenching admission of guilt. He said it the same way he'd tell me he was out of sugar. Casual, but neutral, like the issue wasn't something to be taken personally. After he said that, he just stared at me, waiting for me to do something, but I seriously just didn't know how to react.

His eyes swept me up and down, and he groaned, shaking his head. "Please say something."

"Uh," I stuttered, rubbing the back of my neck and averted my eyes. I sighed deeply and said, "Okay, man, come in. Tell me what happened."

He let out a breath, following me into the apartment, and said, with Arnold's classic politeness, "Thanks."

"Hey, Babe," I greeted my wife, kissing her on the cheek and taking a gulp of my coffee. "Arnold and I are gonna go into the bedroom for a little bit. I'm not sure how long we'll be, but everything's fine, I promise."

Phoebe glanced over at Arnold who smiled meekly and waved, and I could tell by her eyes that she was most certainly unconvinced that everything was as great as I was making it out to be, but she nodded anyway, turning back to the crossword puzzle she had started while I was gone.

I gestured for Arnold to follow me into Phoebe and my bedroom, and as I closed the door behind me, I folded my arms and tried to settle a listless look on him. I'm pretty sure it came off as more concerned than anything, though. I mean, I was under the impression that my man Arnold was true blue; I _never_ would've guessed he'd cheat on anybody. In saying that, I had this chilly feeling that I knew just exactly who he was with last night. But something must've happened to make Arnold do that, and it could _not_ have been good.

Arnold just collapsed on the side of my bed, and dropped his head in his hands. "Gerald, I feel like . . . I feel like I should feel like a jerk, but I don't."

My best friend not feeling guilty about something, especially something that serious, was new. Arnold always found some reason to feel bad; no matter what the situation was, no matter how little he was involved, he always managed to snag some of the blame for himself. And, sure, cheating isn't just one person's fault, but it _was_ half Arnold's fault, and, best friend or not, I wasn't going to sugar-coat it for him. I sighed, (not really knowing how to respond to that just yet), and sat beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, man, tell me what happened."

Without lifting his head, he spoke, voice quiet and focused. "Lila was out of town this weekend. She was visiting an uncle or something like that, so I was all by myself, and I got bored. Restless. You're still all honeymoon phase with Phoebe, so I didn't want to bother you, so I called." He groaned, slouching even further. "Gerald, I called _Helga_."

I remember my brain pausing in thought, but my heart dropped down into my stomach when what he said actually hit me. The relationship between Arnold and Helga was . . . _complicated_ to say the least. Ever since seventh grade when Helga quit being a bully, I could've sworn they were permanently suction-cupped to each other's side. They spent _so much_ time together, going to the movies, taking walks in the park, spending hours trying to beat each other at every game in the arcade. For the longest time, everybody thought they were dating, (me included), but they always denied it. _Adamantly_, and, in Helga's case, occasionally violently. But the annoying thing was: when they finally _did_ sort out their differences enough to be around each other, they _still_ argued like nobody's business. And it was _all the time_, too, because they were _always_ with each other. Nobody could wrench them a part, not me, not Phoebe, not Helga's parents or Arnold's grandparents. Nobody. They were so inseparable, it made me sick.

One afternoon, towards the end of our junior year of high school, I walked into Arnold's bedroom to find the two of 'em going at it like wild animals, writhing around on Arnold's bed, pawing at clothing, biting necks, sucking each other's faces off, the whole nine yards. I didn't want to interrupt them, but I guess my gasp of surprise reached their ears because they both freaked out; Arnold scrambled off of her, and Helga groaned softly and dropped her head into her hands. There was this awkward silence before I asked them what was going on. The second the last syllable left my mouth, Arnold just blurted out that he had _no_ romantic feelings for her whatsoever. I watched in shock as Helga's head snapped up, a dark scowl on her face, and she jumped up from the bed. She cussed him out quietly, (apparently immune to his sheepish, apologetic, puppy dog-esque expression), and then just _slapped_ my man across the face, and then hightailed it out of his skylight. After that, Arnold, as politely as he could, asked me to leave.

The whole rest of that week they wouldn't talk to each other, but they obviously wanted to. I got an earful from Arnold about her that I mostly tuned out. Then that Friday, after school, it happened again: I walked into Arnold's room, and Arnold had Helga pinned against the wall, (both shirtless), and he was biting her neck. And when I say 'biting her neck,' I mean it looked like he was trying to _eat _her. (Though, from the way things were looking, eating her was definitely on his mind.) They heard me, panicked, denied, and Helga booked it from the room shortly after that. Arnold invited me in, with the condition that I not speak a word, to him or anybody else, about what I had just seen. My eyes were burning and the sight didn't really make sense to me, so I very happily obliged.

I had only ever walked in on them those two times, but there were odd things that happened after that that got me thinking. Sometimes, when Arnold would tell me about plans, or what he had done that weekend, there were continuity errors. Holes that he refused to talk about, and glossed over quickly with the hopes that I would move on with him. If one of us crashed at the other's house, he sometimes would mumble Helga's name in his sleep. 

One time, the guys were supposed to meet up at the movie theatre for a guys night out. Arnold was fifteen minutes late, and when he did show up, he was flushed, flighty, and anxious. That was strange in and of itself, but he also had disheveled hair and an inside-out shirt. The guys all asked him why he looked like that, with a wink and a nod and questions about if the girl was hot or not, but Arnold just laughed very awkwardly, pulled at his collar, and muttered something about taking a nap and sleeping past his alarm. 

Arnold never told me anything, and I never asked questions, but I was pretty sure I knew what was going on, and I knew Arnold knew I knew.

At the beginning of senior year, Arnold started dating some girl he met at his job at the pet store. She bought a bunny, I remember, and was basically a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Lila. Helga and Arnold didn't hang out much after that, but one month later, out of the blue, Arnold broke up with Bunny McGee, and suddenly the dynamic duo were back in business, and they acted liked nothing had changed: they still bickered, argued, (sometimes so passionately, I was sure one of 'em would smack the other), and teased each other mercilessly. And there were crazy rumors after that, like Helga had purposely broken the two of them up, Arnold cheated with Helga and got her pregnant, the bunny girl broke up with Arnold because she thought there was something going on after they all had a three-way and Arnold paid more attention to Helga than her. It was a pretty crazy time to say the least.

After high school, they went to separate colleges, so they sorta took a _break_, or whatever you want to call it, but they still sort of kept in touch. It's pretty much impossible for them to escape each other, anyway, because Arnold's my best friend, and I'm married to Helga's best friend. Arnold was my best man and Helga was Phoebe's maid of honor, and since our wedding, (about six months before Arnold showed up at my apartment), they'd rekindled their . . . friendship. (I guess I can call it that; I never saw any signs that they were hooking up or anything, so I'd _assumed_ it was platonic.) It was just like high school, all over again; they went to the movies every Thursday, (because that was the day of the week Helga hated the most, and Arnold wanted to make something special of it to make her feel better), Helga would crash at his apartment every so often, (which, in hindsight, should have waved a red flag for me, but I just refused to see it), and you could never find Helga without Arnold by her side.

A month ago, on the one day that the two lovebirds weren't together, Arnold ran into Lila at the grocery store, and she asked him on a date. To be honest, I had never really . . . liked Lila very much. Sure, she was a great girl. Nice, polite, good at baking deserts, but, even when my man Arnold was all gaga for her in elementary school, I could never picture them together. I helped him, of course, he's my best friend, but she always seemed too _vanilla_ for him. He needed . . . cinnamon, or nutmeg, or chili powder. So when Arnold actually said yes to the inevitably boring relationship, I went along with it, despite the fact that I knew he'd get bored eventually. He enjoys excitement, and Lila is anything but; he likes the thrill of the chase and fast roller coasters, and Lila is all about slow-paced merry-go-rounds and strolls through the park. I can't imagine him actually liking being in a relationship with that girl, not in a million years, but the weird part was, he didn't even seem all that excited when he told me about it. It was just your standard, "I've got a date with Lila this Friday. I'm taking her to dinner." Boom. End of story. He didn't ask me for advice on what to say and what not to say, he didn't ask if a suit was too much, or if she would like the sort of flowers he got for her, or if he should buy new cologne. I'm pretty sure he just wore a pair of nice jeans and a button up, and gave her a dandelion or something he picked in the park. That's a bit exaggerated, but bottom line is he didn't try for that girl. Actually, she kinda flung herself at him, and Arnold just sorta accepted her attention. He never initiated dates; he never called her to invite her out anywhere; he never 'reported' back to me about how the dates went, and when I asked he just shrugged and said they were 'okay.' Now that I think about it, were they even really dating to begin with? Or did they just sort of . . . spend time together and call it a date? If that's what dating is, then Arnold and Helga have been a couple for even longer and Phoebe and I, and it seems like we've been together forever. (Even though we started dating in eight grade, after much coaxing from Arnold and Helga. Go figure.)

So, anyway, when Arnold got his quote-unquote girlfriend, I _forced_ myself not to be worried about Arnold and Helga being alone anymore once Arnold and Lila started dating. We're all adults, we know how to reel in sexual desires, _especially_ if we already have a significant other, so I figured they'd gotten over whatever weird relationship they used to have. Guess I was wrong.

Anyway, that being said, I wasn't _completely_ surprised that they'd done something together. I _was_, however, surprised that Arnold had invited her over to begin with, knowing his track record with one Helga G. Pataki. That was why my jaw just dropped and I said, "You called _Helga_?"

Arnold groaned, but didn't answer anything more in depth than a nod.

I shook my head. "You _are_ aware of what happens when you and Helga are alone, right?"

I expected him to just moan and self-depreciate, but instead he jumped to his feet and gave me a desperate, panicked look. "But I can't help it, Gerald! I always want to be around her; she makes me feel amazing, and she's so beautiful, and so smart, and she's so good with words, but she's just so different from Lila and she would _never_ go out with me! She said it herself!" He shook his head, looking to be lost in his own world. "I didn't ask her or anything, but she just let it slip. She would _never_ date anybody. Dating wasn't her _scene_, whatever the hell that means." He started pacing, (well, more like stomping), around the room, his hands gesticulating grandly as he spoke in a harsh voice. "I've been feeling all messed up inside, ever since _preschool,_ when I first met Helga and she constantly made my life a living hell! Every day since I was three, it was, 'Helga called me this,' and 'Helga threw this at me,' and 'Helga humiliated me in front of everyone _again_ by doing _this_!' It was all the time, it never stopped! Even when I was thinking about other girls, I was thinking about Helga! Every thought I've ever had has come right back to her! Every dream I've ever had, there she is, fucking _everything_ up!" I gaped at him; Arnold never swears. But, then again, he looked pretty worked up, and even Arnold has his limits. "Rhonda told me we were supposed to get married, Gerald! She told me that one hundred and ten times! And the more I thought about it, the more I was just kinda . . . _okay_ with it!"

"Arnold, that was in fourth grade -"

"But that's just it, isn't it, Gerald?" he suddenly yelled at me, stopping in tracks and staring straight through me. "I was just casually okay marrying Helga when I was _nine_! She was at her _worst_ when we were nine! And just because that whole marriage calculator thing happened fifteen years ago--Gerald, I'm _still_ thinking about it! I _still_ have dreams about it! And every time I almost forget, every time I'm on the edge of falling off Helga tower and plummeting to sweet relief, I have that stupid fucking dream! And every time I have it, it seems more and more inviting!" He started pacing again, speaking as if I wasn't even there. "I hadn't seen her face in four years before your wedding, and every girl I dated during that time was pretty much Helga! The closer to Helga, the more I liked her! But none of them even came _close_! And the second I saw her, looking absolute stunning in her bridesmaids dress, it all came rushing back to me like a slap in the face! All the nights she snuck into my room to watch horror movies, every candle lit dinner that was _completely_ platonic, every laugh, every cry, every kiss, and _every single time_ she let me fuck her brains out!"

Okay, so I definitely wasn't expecting that to come out of his mouth. 

"We used to fool around _all the time_! And does that sound like me? No! Because Helga drives me absolutely _crazy_, and I can't seem to get away from her! Every time I try to, she chases me, catches me, and reels me back in! And it's _amazing_, Gerald! I never feel as alive as I do when I'm with her; it's intoxicating! I can never get enough of Helga G. Pataki, and that terrifies me! She doesn't settle down; she told me so herself! She's a 'no-strings attached kind of girl,' is what she told me. Well, _I'm_ a strings attached kind of guy! I want to fall in love, date, get married, have kids, and grow old with my soul mate! And I've already made it to step one, Gerald!"

I remember my brain replaying his words before getting stuck on that last part. "Wait, you love her?"

Arnold sighed, his energy visibly draining. "With all my heart. But I can't have her. She'll give me her body, but she told me no man can have her soul. And that's _exactly_ what I want. I'll even give her mine, but I just can't keep running in circles like this! Dating girls, cheating on them, breaking their hearts, and then just running back to Helga. I can't get her out of my head. She's . . . she's a _part_ of me now. She always has been, and I can't just get her _amputated_."

"Do you _want_ to get her amputated?" I asked oddly, unsure of how to ask the question, but I figured I'd just go with his metaphor. It worked.

The was a long pause, but it ended when he just groaned and shook his head. "No. I don't want to lose her."

"Arnold, you need to tell her how you feel," I said with a sigh, watching him stop in place and stare at me, an eyebrow raised incredulously. "This cycle you're talking about will just keep going if she never knows your feelings. I mean, you're both adults; what's the worst that could happen?"

He looked me over with a neutral, (and yet somehow still chastising), expression. "She could cuss me out, order me to never speak to her again, and walk out of my life for good."

I grimaced. "Okay, that's pretty bad, but if she is as attached to you as you say she is, she can't possibly think of you as just a friend. I mean, you guys have been having sex since junior year -"

"Gerald, we had sex when we were fifteen," Arnold said, putting his hands on his hips with a blank expression on his face.

My eyes widened, and, yeah, I'll be honest, that stung a little bit. "_Freshman year_?! You guys have been a thing since _freshman year_?!"

Arnold nodded, looking distracted and barely making eye contact with me. "Yeah. Remember that time Helga came to school limping and told everybody she sprained her ankle jump roping?"

My entire world just flipped upside down when he said that, because I remember that ordeal like it was yesterday. I laughed at her until I cried, because she was a _freshman_, jumping rope like a common _nine-year-old_. She had blushed scarlet when I made fun of her, but, finding out the real reason why she was limping, everything about that whole thing just sort of aligned. I _finally_ realized why Arnold was blushing too. I _finally_ realized why her limping seemed so much stranger than the limping from your average sprained ankle, (I always thought it was my imagination, but she seemed to switch feet every now and again). I _finally_ realized why it only lasted like a couple of days _maximum_. Despite my mind ringing, I decided to bring myself back to the conversation. "How come you never told me?"

"I was in love with her," Arnold said in a quiet voice, "and she only liked sleeping with me. _And_ she was one of my best friends. If I told you, you would've made me say something to her, and come on, we were _freshman_! I wasn't even close to being ready to let her go!"

"But if she likes you, too, then you guys could've been together this whole time instead of dancing around each other like a couple of morons," I pointed out, folding my arms over my chest. I did feel for my man Arnold, I swear, but it's just so weird learning all this stuff about your best friend like ten years after it all happened. I get why he didn't tell me. Sorta.

"Hey," Arnold said with a halfhearted scowl. "_I'm_ the only moron here. I've been in love with Helga since I was three, and haven't done anything about it. All this time . . . I've kissed her, taken her on dates that we don't call dates, flirted with her, spent countless hours holding her whenever she got sad, getting ice cream and tampons for her, made love to her, and pretty much been a boyfriend, to a girl that doesn't even like me like that. But it's not that that I'm annoyed about: it's the fact that she_ doesn't know I feel this way_. I'm whipped, completely gone for her." He sighed, and my heart felt for him at how heartbroken he sounded. But seriously? Three? I've said it once, and I'll say it again: my man Arnold is _bold_. "If that's not the symptoms of a moron, I don't know what is."

"Yeah, you most definitely _are_ a moron," the most ironic voice said. "Twenty-two years later, and you still haven't spilled your guts to me. I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Dr. Phil wannabe."

The speed in which Arnold spun around to face the girl standing in my bedroom doorway was laughable. His eyes were wide in shock, his entire body tense, and his mouth gaped. He sputtered a little bit, before choking out, "_Helga_? What are you doing here?"

Helga laughed, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms over her chest. "Right now I'm getting a good 'ol chuckle at you after having listened to that hilarious conversation." I could see the amusement in her face as she watched Arnold get all embarrassed and irritated, but then she said something that just about made my week, and I'm sure made Arnold's entire life: "But about ten minutes before that, I came over here to gush to Phoebe that the man I've loved since preschool just had sex with me again after - what - almost a _year _of tiptoeing around each other, like _morons_?"

If Arnold's reaction before was funny, his face after she said that was probably one of the funniest things I've ever seen. It looked like it came straight out of a comedy; his eyes were HUGE, his mouth falling open, his posture slouching slightly. Oh my God . . . I couldn't stop laughing. I was so happy that the two of them were too distracted with each other to kick me out, because I was so damn curious.

Helga waited patiently, (well, patiently for her), for Arnold to say something, anything, even to grunt or something, but he just stood there. It wasn't until about ten seconds later when his mouth snapped shut and he blinked rapidly, finally snapping out of whatever stupor he'd been in. He said in this quiet voice, "Uh, Helga . . . how long were you, um . . . howmuchdidyouhear?"

I rolled my eyes at him. Out of her entire speech, and all that he retained was that she was in the same room as him? He's always been dense, but he pretty much just rejected her love declaration, and I could tell by the amused look on Helga's face that she was thinking the same thing.

"Well . . ." she mused, putting a finger to her lips as he pretended to think about her answer. "I distinctly remember you yelling, 'I was just casually okay marrying Helga when I was _nine_,' and after that, I figured I deserved to listen to the rest of whatever the hell pow wow just happened in here." She didn't even let the poor guy answer; she just rolled her eyes, strolled the length of the room until she was standing right in front of him. "I love you," she said casually, as if she were asking him how his day was, and then she just grabbed his shirt front and planted this huge kiss on his lips. It only lasted a second, and then she pulled back and said, "Break up with Lila."

Arnold just nodded eagerly and gushed, "Absolutely," before grabbing her face and pretty much mauling her mouth. I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, expecting them to stop because I was, you know, _standing in the same room as them_, but if anything they just got closer and closer 'til the point where they should've melded into one human being.

When Helga moaned, I figured that was my cue to leave, so with a short, "Don't do it on my bed," I left the room to join my wife at the kitchen table so we could finish our breakfast. Our completely _normal_ breakfast, in which I completely forgot about the mess that was the relationship between my man Arnold and that psycho Helga Pataki.


End file.
